First Rank Tian inspected each of the commandos.
As Tian slapped Zhu’s jetpack and tested one of the straps on his chest, the First Rank said softly, “You must be more careful, Fighter Rank.”
“First Rank?”
Tian tugged a strap harder than necessary. “Too many died in San Gorgonio Pass. It was a bloodbath.”
“But we won,” Zhu said.
Tian released the strap and scowled at him. “Don’t be a hero, Zhu. That is an order.”
“Have I done something wrong?”
“You skinny fool,” Tian hissed. “I’m sick of seeing my friends die. When you joined us you were so wet behind the ears it was painful. Then you became a real tiger in combat, a White Tiger.” Tian shook his head. “Who would have believed it? The others are dead now but for us two. I won’t die here. My mother read my horoscope before I left China. I will survive, and it will be a sorrow to me. Now I’m beginning to understand what she meant. I do not want you on my conscience, Fighter Rank.”
“Yes, First Rank.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on Tian’s face.
“You still don’t understand. You are a fool, Zhu, and you’re skinny and it makes no sense you should survive where the others have died. How have you managed this miracle?”
“I don’t shirk my duty.”
Tian looked away. “No. You have a death wish. Because of that, Yan Luo laughs at you just like the rest of us used to do.”
“That is not true. I do not want to die.”
“No?”
“I want to live, but I want to fight well even more.”
Tian slapped him on the shoulder. “You have believed everything the instructors told you, Fighter Rank. It is a marvel. During this flight, I want you to stay close to me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, First Rank.”
“You are to guard my back. That is an order.”
“Guard you?” Zhu asked.
“I have too much to worry about and oversee during a fight. To have to guard myself every minute of the fight while I’m doing it, no, I’m not a wonder child.”
Zhu stood straighter. “Ah, I understand. Yes, I will guard your back, First Rank.”
“I’m counting on that,” Tian said with a nod. “Now, hurry to your helo. We’re about to lift-off.”
Fourteen minutes later, the air taxis lifted with the Eagle Team members in place on the poles. Behind them, Gunhawks lofted to provide fire support.
Zhu watched entranced. This never failed to awe him. As the rotors turned faster, the ground dropped away and the city soon looked like a toy set. Radio chatter played in his headphones. Artillery opened up and a company of special infantry attacked the American line.
“Proceed to your grid coordinates.”
“Roger,” the air taxi pilot said.
Zhu’s gut lurched as his helo headed back down into the battle. Around him, other helicopters zoomed for the large buildings a block behind the main enemy defenses. The American infantry had found large buildings to fortify. Clearing them in the old-fashioned way took time and blood or it took the buildings’ destruction through artillery or tank fire.
“Now!” Tian said.
Zhu released his handlebars and jumped hard. He activated his jetpack and thrust away from the deadly blades. Then he dropped with his fellow Eagle Team soldiers. The top of a seven-story building rushed up. The tactical plan was simple. Grab several large buildings behind enemy lines: let the Americans know they had been cut off and trapped. First, they were going to have to secure this building.
“Fighter Rank, you’re too far ahead,” Tian said through the headphones. “Slow your descent and wait for me to land.”
“Yes, First Rank.” Zhu applied thrust. As his jetpack hissed, the heavy straps pulled at his shoulders. Others dropped faster now, and they landed on top of the building. Immediately, the commandos shed their jetpacks and raced for the stairwell.
The Army wanted Riverside fast, and using the White Tiger Eagle Teams was one of the secrets to getting it as soon as they wanted it.
Then the roof of the building rushed up, and Zhu touched down. He yanked his straps and the jetpack fell away with a clatter of noise. Grabbing his assault rifle, Zhu checked his impulse to follow the others already pouring down into the building. He must guard the First Rank’s back.
A moment later, a bulky trooper landed beside him. The White Tiger shed his pack and flipped up his visor. It was Tian. He shouted orders into his throat microphone, constantly checked the computer scrolls attached to him and he strode toward the stairwell.
“Cover my back,” he ordered Zhu.
Zhu raced into position, with his assault rifle ready. If the Americans came for Tian, they would first have to get past him. What a great honor the First Rank gave him. Zhu swore a silent oath then that before Tian died, he would die first protecting him.
Stan was near the junction of I-15 and I-215. Five of the Behemoths were slated to head up I-215 to Perris and Riverside beyond. According to Colonel Wilson, SoCal Command had decided to split the regiment. They needed something to stop the Chinese advance. The enemy was chewing through Riverside too fast. The Behemoths were to give the Chinese something to think about and would provide anti-air protection for the last-ditch defenders.
“That’s a mistake, sir,” Stan said over the radio to Wilson. Each of them waited in their carrier-cab. Stan’s tank had engine trouble again. Because of that, his tank would soon begin the slow journey to Corona.
“It’s out of my hands,” Wilson told him.
Stan studied his netbook. “Our Behemoths operate better when used all together like a closed fist. You need to explain that to General Larson, sir. We can’t allow the Chinese to nibble one of our greatest tactical assets away, namely, these super-tanks.”
“This is war, Captain. Sometimes there are no good choices.”
Stan almost replied to that. Then he thought more carefully. Wilson was right and it showed him the Colonel had changed. Wilson wasn’t Mr. Martinet anymore. Battle had transformed his outlook to something more rational.
“Yes sir, you’re right,” Stan told him. “It’s just…”
“I don’t like the order, either. I’m not sure we’ll see those men again in this world.”
Stan swallowed hard. He’d been training with the Behemoth crews for some time. What an awful thing. The others had kept their tanks running and because of that, the Army had likely signed those men’s death warrants by sending them against the Chinese in Riverside.
“We’re leaving,” Jose said, climbing into the cab. The cushions compressed beneath his weight, making crinkling noises.
Soon, Stan heard the carrier’s engine rumble. With a lurch, they began the slow, fifteen mph crawl for Corona. Beside them on the highway, Americans marched and others rode bicycles. The Chinese were coming, and SoCal Command was rushing this remnant of Army Group SoCal to Los Angeles.
“Who’s going to lead them, sir?”
“I am,” Wilson said.
Stan sat blinking in the cab. “You, sir, you’re leading the charge?”
“My tank is still in top running condition. It has always been the best-maintained Behemoth in the
